Not My Bella, You Bitch!
by warchiefzeke05
Summary: It was Ron's gluttony and selfishness against the boiling quicksilver in Bella's veins.


Back in the Shell Cottage, Harry had buried _**her**_silver dagger deep inside the waterside soil, along with Dobby's body.

Nobody saw Hermione, sneaking out in the middle of the night to dig up Dobby's grave. Nobody saw her taking the dagger and hiding it under her pink sweatshirt.

Back in the Shell Cottage, Ron had asked, why wouldn't she brew a scar smoothing potion. A potion, that would've erased the word "Mudblood" _**she**_ had engraved on Hermione's forearm.

Ron hadn't gotten any answer for this question.

Ron would have never ever understood, how meaningful the precious slur carved in Hermione's flesh really wasto her.

Back in the Shell Cottage, Ron had asked, why was Hermione being so cold, so distant. Why did she avoid any form of contact with him; why did she lower her gaze each time they were in a room together.

Ron hadn't gotten any answer for this question, either.

Because... for Hermione, it was as clear as a day.

It was Ron's sluggishness against _**her**_burning passion.

It was Ron's superficialness and pettiness against _**her**_ fanatical goal pursuit.

It was Ron's gluttony and selfishness against the boiling quicksilver in _**her**_veins.

It was Ron's immaturity and childishness against _**her**_years of experience.

It was Ron's clumsiness in bedroom against the pure, insane ecstasy _**she**_ offered.

Back in the Shell Cottage, Harry had asked Hermione about her suddenly altered behavior. He had asked, why did she start to alienate herself. He had asked, why didn't she contribute to discussions, making schemes and plans for the further stages of the Horcrux Hunt.

_I have a lot to think about, Harry_.

A sincere, simple answer.

Back in the Shell Cottage, the guys had brewed Polyjuice Potion. They had forced Hermione to disguise herself as _**her**_**.**

Hermione couldn't care less about the whole Gringott's endeavor. Throughout the whole thing, she kept her face cuddled in the jet black curls of _**her **_hair, greedily breathing in the intoxicating fragrance.

Now, it's not the peaceful surroundings of the Shell Cottage anymore.

Now, they are surrounded by the blazing battle.

Debris and conflagration. Blood and suffering.

Mayhem.

Hermione pretends to be participating. She pretends to fight.

In reality, her eyes are constantly seeking _**her**_**.**

_'Not my daughter, you bitch!'_

Hermione turns around.

Molly Weasley.

Chubby, freckled face, winced in fury. Molly throws off her cloak, running towards..._**her**_**.**

Hermione gasps and holds her breath. Sensation in her stomach, caused by seeing Bellatrix again, is... indescribable.

_'Out of my way!'_

Molly yells on the top of her lungs.

Something seems off. The screechy voice coming out of her mouth doesn't sound like old Mrs Weasley.

This is a voice of an _insane person._

_'Get back! Get back, she's mine!'_

Molly charges Bella, slashing lights shooting out of her wand.

Hermione's pupils widen.

The spells Molly uses.

These spells are surprisingly dark... and surprisingly illegal.

They all have their place on the extreme side of the dark spectrum. They all are meant to kill.

Hermione looks around.

Doesn't anybody see that...?

Yes, they do. There are dozens of spectators around the dueling women.

Why doesn't anybody react? Molly has attacked first. Molly uses forbidden magic. Molly's fighting style is literally the polar opposite of what the Order of the Phoenix has approved of.

Bella is forced to step back, facing the unremitting cannonade.

Hermione lets out a muffled cry.

She stands close enough to see the drops of sweat on Bella's forehead.

She stands close enough to see the sparkle in Bella's dark eyes.

She stands close enough to see Bella's astonishingly white teeth biting on her lower lip, as she concentrates on the duel.

It takes only a couple of steps to be by Bella's side again.

On that moment, there is nothing Hermione wouldn't do to be in Bella's warm embrace. To feel the taste of her full lips.

To be on the receiving end of her Cruciatus Curse.

She doesn't remember summoning or conjuring a thick chain. It has just found itself in her hands, conveniently and just in time.

It takes one vigorous, resolved move, to wrap the chain around Molly's neck.

One, extremely powerful jerk. A disgusting crackle of a broken neck.

'Not my Bella, you bitch.' Hermione whispers to the dead body of the red-headed Witch and lets go of the chain.

She raises her head. Bella stands where she stood. Hazel eyes meet black eyes.

Bella does not have time to come back to senses. She doesn't have time to contemplate what has just happened.

Hermione doesn't give her this time.

She closes her eyes, wrapping her arms around Bella's shoulders.

Her thin, pale lips meet Bella's full and moist ones.

She loses herself in the incredible taste.

Bella doesn't step back.


End file.
